


open up my eager eyes

by Waistcoat35



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A good portion of weird stuff in this happened irl, Alternate Universe - Human, Anathema threatens to sever somebody's vena cava, Content warning: STEM-week related trauma, Crowley is so done, Crowley's self-esteem issues in general, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I hope I'm not too in-depth with triggers I'm paranoid, I mean Hastur & Ligur lowkey kick the shit out of each other but what do you expect honestly, I'm British and I wanted an au where I understand what the hell is going on, IT'S HELL, Multi, Not High school, Pining, Secondary school AU, Self-Esteem Issues, Swearing, That's right bitches, The violence tag is mostly for phrases mentioning violence, Theatre, Yeah there's meme references, crack (ish), nobody likes STEM week, please don't form your impressions of me based on this fic I can do better I swear, reference to that dumbass My Immortal harry potter fic, sorry Jay I used your threat, which contains a self-harm mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 20:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: 'He raises an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. Didn't you pour half a packet of dreamies into Warlock's lasagne in food tech?""I told you, it was only crunchy because he overcooked the mince.""Fine, keep your secrets. But for the record, overcooking mince makes it chewy, not crunchy. It also doesn't make it taste like Savoury Salmon.""Doesn't it?" 'In which crushes are had, memes are referenced, and literally nobody is even close to being normal.





	open up my eager eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhGodNotTheBees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhGodNotTheBees/gifts).



> So I've been talking to a few friends about this and we concluded that not only are there pretty much no Secondary School aus for fandoms we're in (look, trying to figure out what US year group names mean is a task I refuse to deal with) but school stories are often too eventful and not weird enough, at least compared to our school. This is pretty much based off random stuff that happened when I was in secondary so please don't take it too seriously asdfjlrjo
> 
> Also this is dedicated to Jay for making school suck less thanks mate

He groans into his locker, forehead smushed against the freezing metal as the third printed copy of the "I'm a snek" meme flutters to the ground. He might make a checklist of the things and stick it up, so that people can be a bit more original next time. That might work, right? He sighs. Fifteen quid a year for a locker and all it's used for is for these chucklefucks to stick shit in it.

  
Peace is not to be had for long after this, as there is a nondescript "aaaagh"-ing noise by his ear before the locker next to his is opened. He hauls himself somewhat upright, bracing himself for his first proper Human Interaction of the day.

  
"Hi, Lucille." He can see her shit-eating grin without actually turning his head, but he does so anyway just to let her bask in all his deadpan morning glory.

  
"Hey." She looks down to his feet. " _Another_ one?"

  
He shrugs. "Guess so."

  
"Considering it's the same clowns doing it each time, you'd think they'd know it's already been done before."  
He turns the key in his locker and waits for her to get her stuff. "That's probably why they're so repetitive. Annoyance appeal. Got anything interesting on today?" She bolts upright, almost smacking her head on the roof of her locker, before backing out.

"Oh fuck. Oh, _fuck_." He tilts his head. Ten minutes and somebody's already having an emotional crisis.  
"What?"  
She shuts the locker door and faceplants it, making a strangled, guttural whimpery noise. Ironic how education is supposed to have a positive effect on young people.  
"It's STEM week. It's bloody STEM week and I forgot. Screw my life. _Screw_ my life." She clutches at his sleeve with a slightly crazed expression. "Ant, don't make me do it. I can't make me do STEM week again, oh God, please not ag _ain_ -" The only current positive is that nobody's looking at them weirdly, mostly because he's already a social outcast so people are used to his shit, and because Lucille's in Year 9, and those guys are Like That.

  
"I'm not actually making you do it, just to remind you of that for a moment. _They're_ making you do it. Go and talk to them about it, if it's that bad." She shakes her head and almost _whines_. God, kids are terrifying.

  
" _And_ they'll make me miss the craft course again." She's tipped her head back. He almost feels sorry for her. Almost. But that'd imply that he's an individual with hobbies and interests and feelings who's capable of finer things than getting the shit kicked out of him, such as being capable of sympathy, and everybody knows that he doesn't go in for that.

  
He shrugs her off, checking the time on the screen on the wall. "Not a lot you can do about it now. Who knows, maybe you'll form an unbreakable bond with the kids in your group and you'll be brought together by the experience?" His voice takes on a hopeful lilt at the end. This girl really needs more friends if she's still hanging out with him, so he's not being entirely ironic.  
She snorts. "Last year one of them called me a 'melt' for not knowing how to make a glorified metal train. And then I got bullied into going into a field in the rain to do the bearings task. This isn't exactly a Harry Potter high school AU, and you know it."  
"Oh, I know. If it was then you'd already be clinging to some weedy blonde lad with a rich dad and a power complex and going to a concert with him in Hogsmeade." He got a light shove for his comedic efforts.

"The Gods have witnessed what you just referenced and they're disgusted." He shrugged.  
"My parents'll be so proud."  
"Are you still trying to convince what'shisface that they're Satanists?"  
"Are you still calling him what'shisface?"  
"Hey, there are four houses and a couple hundred kids, I can't be arsed to know everyone."  
"His name's Shadwell. One of his names is, anyway. Don't know which one - depends how much his parents hate him. Considering what he's like, that's probably a lot and it's probably his first name. But fine, yeah, I am. You can't tell me it isn't funny."  
"It is, I'll give you that. Extremely morally dubious, but funny."  
He raises an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. Didn't you pour half a packet of Dreamies into Warlock's lasagne in food tech?"  
"I told you, it was only crunchy because he overcooked the mince."  
"Fine, keep your secrets. But for the record, overcooking mince makes it chewy, not crunchy. It also doesn't make it taste like Savoury Salmon."  
"Doesn't it?"  
"You tell me." She groans.  
"You're infuriating to talk to."  
"Thanks. I'm also three minutes late to English Lit."  
"So you mean you're early, by your standards."  
He shoots her finger-guns before pivoting around and heading down the corridor.  
"Not for long!"

* * *

  
He slithers into class approximately seven minutes late in the end, deciding that he hasn't got the mental energy to deal with a detention. Granted, he can find a way to get out of it today, and probably tomorrow, and possibly even the day after that depending on how close the teacher already is to having a breakdown, but he can't hold it off forever so he might as well try to prevent his getting one.

  
He needn't have worried. Hastur and Ligur, in their attempt to re-enact Wordsworth's The Prelude, have broken a ceiling panel and seem to have tempted Miss Christie into giving up on just about everything. She looks a minute away from sobbing into her Macbook, and he decides to take pity on her, wandering over and slipping his essay onto her desk. He tells himself it's because he doesn't want people to see him turning things in on time, and is taking advantage of them being distracted by both the ceiling massacre and the fact that Ligur is kicking the shit out of Hastur as best he can while clinging to said ceiling panel. It has nothing to do with the fact that she actually looks pleased or proud or anything. Or the fact that he gets more validation from his (in his opinion) lacklustre academia than he seems to from his family. No, sir.

  
He slides into his seat and stretches out, just enough to wobble the precariously balanced pencil case edging a bit too near to his side of the desk. A hand catches it before it can topple, although he wouldn't have actually let it.

  
"If you remove my fineliners from the rainbow spectrum I've spent registration putting them in, I will sever your vena cava and make sure your reputation is so irreparable the ground wouldn't want you to rot in it."

  
"Morning, Anathema. Nice to see you too."

  
She wrinkles her nose. "Who said anything about nice?"

  
He smirks. "Glad we're on the same page." He glances back to the front at Miss Christie. "How long's this shitshow been going on, anyway?"

  
Anathema shrugs. "Pretty much since the lesson started. In all fairness, the re-enactment part was obligatory, so this is partly her fault. In slightly less fairness, Hastur and Ligur didn't necessarily have to volunteer."

  
"She didn't have to let them do it." A shoe flies past his head and just clips his ear before smacking into the wall, violently cast off from Ligur's foot where it's still kicking helplessly in midair. "Okay, I digress. Maybe she did." They glance over to the screen, and he wonders, not for the first time, why her laptop screensaver is a grainy picture of the class trip to see that Dickens play last December. He says as much. Anathema tilts her head contemplatively.

  
"I think it's a hit list. If there's an app over your face, you're fucked."

  
He takes stock of three things simultaneously after that.  
The first is the Firefox image firmly covering his facial features in the photograph.  
The second is that Ligur's free and is now attacking Hastur on solid ground with little to no remorse.  
The third is that Ezra's just walked in to give a form to Miss Christie, and is smiling vaguely in Crowley's direction as he does so.  
"Anathema," he says, "You're dead right."


End file.
